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by FairyQueen (etoilecourageuse)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 02:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5113484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilecourageuse/pseuds/FairyQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war weighs heavy upon Narcissa's shoulders, even weeks after it ended.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimaracretak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/gifts).



> I really hope that you like this! I saw your requested characters and the prompts in your letter, and just had to write something for you! Happy Halloween! <3

She had no memory of when she had last left her home. She had no memory of when she had last spoken to anyone but her husband, had no memory of when she had last smiled. To smile… She had long forgotten how to smile. 

The war was over. 

The war was over. The war was over, had ended weeks ago and they were safe… Lucius, Draco… They both were safe. Yet Narcissa felt no relief, seemed to feel nothing, nothing at all but emptiness and a heavy pressure upon her heart whenever she allowed her mind to slip away, and to think of her sister. Her sister… Bellatrix… She had seen her fall, right before her eyes, and she had done nothing. Nothing at all. But how could she, if she had scarcely processed the happenings around her until days after when she had begun to realise at last that she was gone?

They would condemn her for her grief, Narcissa knew, as to grieve was a privilege she had never been granted, and would not be granted now. But was it truly grief that she felt? Was she mourning her sister now, when in truth she had lost her years ago, to the darkness at first, and then to Azkaban? 

Bellatrix had no longer been the same after escaping from prison, had looked at her, merely looked at her and not spoken, her once-so-fierce dark eyes nearly expressionless. She had scarcely eaten as though she’d been incapable of stomaching even the smallest amounts of nourishment. Narcissa had sat by her side each night for weeks at first, afraid that one day she would not wake from her sleep, had not dared to close her eyes and nearly collapsed with exhaustion as the burden had become too heavy for her to carry at times. 

The concern, the endless concern… Narcissa had never ceased to worry for her family, had been so close to breaking and yet sustained everything with her head held high, never allowing herself to surrender, never allowing herself to lose hope. 

The war was over. Nightmares would still haunt her, would still deprive her from her sleep, but she pushed them away, pushed away her emotions as well, as otherwise… Otherwise perhaps she would surrender after all. 

Narcissa had no memory of when she had last left her home, dreaded the thought at times, knowing that she would not be safe, not now, not yet… She would not yet be forgiven for who she was. But one day… One day she would, would face the world and laugh, laugh as she had emerged from this war triumphant, as she was all right, as the relief would consume her at last and she would realise how lucky she had been, how lucky they all had been. One day, the war would end, truly, even for her.


End file.
